AN: Hello everyone! Unfortunately, or fortunately, I decided to skip the little stand-alone Halloween fic and start right in with Wendigo. I'm kind of obsessed and freaked out by this creature of legend at the same time… Also, don't forget to check out the poll I made, it's visible in my profile! Now, some characters from Covert Affairs will show up in this story, but it's not really a story about them. The CIA is just a tool for me to introduce the mysterious Blackrock…so I'm unsure if I should list this as a crossover or not… I hope everyone likes this story and… let's get this show on the road!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters, they belong to CBS nor do I own Covert Affairs or any of its characters, they belong to USA.

Warnings: Gore, death, sexual themes, swearing, scary supernatural stuff…

Chapter One: Ravenous

Robet Louis Stevenson said; "Nothing arouses our disgust more than cannibalism... yet we feed on babies, though not our own."

Outside Cass Lake, Minnesota:

The wind whipped through the trees, screaming at the top of its lungs like some sort of nightmarish monster, clawing its way into reality from the depths of hell. Lightning flashed a crossed the sky… jagged as a scar, just as precise, just as painful. A little ranch stood in the middle of an opening in the thick trees. The pleasant light from the kitchen streamed out of the window's glass like a beacon of hope. Perhaps it was for a figure staggered out of the trees. A man began to move out of the darkness towards the ranch house. He was tall, wearing a dark brown hooded coat, but it was torn in places, the down seeping out. His pants were torn as well and as he staggered his arms reached out, as though he could touch the warmth that kitchen light was offering him. Annabelle Conrad dropped her mug of tea as she looked out the window. The green painted, glazed ceramic container shattering upon contact with the wooden floor of her kitchen, and hot tea began seeping into the rug at her feet. "Jammie! Get your brother and get outside! Someone's hurt!" She called, glancing once over her shoulder to make sure the two teenage boys came darting down the stairs. Shrugging on their own jackets they ran out into the storm, just as the stranger collapsed…

The two boys managed to get the man's arms over their shoulders and half drag him inside. Jammie winced as he could feel how skinny the man was, even underneath his heavy thick coat. His brother, Brandon, had a similar expression that was a mixture of sympathy and disgust, even under the heavy wind they could smell that it had been a long time since the man had bathed. After a short struggle, it was difficult to get the man, who was nearly six inches taller than them, and acting like dead weight, through the door and into the house.

Annabelle rushed into the room and began helping them, "I have the couch ready, we have to get him warmed up. Brandon, go call 9-1-1, tell them to get over here as quickly as possible."

The younger boy nodded and dashed out into the living room as mother and son got the stranger into the living room. With a streak of calm that illustrated just how many times the young mother had to deal with this situation, she stripped the man of his soaked clothing and began to pull a dry shirt and pair of pants onto the man. Their guest was so skinny, to the point that his ribs stuck out of his ashen skin like tree branches. Ms. Conrad's heart ached for the man and the horrors he must have encountered. Jammie adverted his eyes and suddenly found his throat thick as a scene similar to this played out in his mind, "I…is he going to make it?"

"He has severe hypothermia Jammie and we have to do our best until the ambulance can get here and…" She stopped, realizing what he was remembering. Looking over at her son she tried to say in a strong voice, "He'll make it. Help me?"

The man between them just groaned lightly, then fell very silent, as they tucked him into the blankets. For a long moment they looked at each other and nodded before lying next to the man on the couch, "Remember what the ranger said?" Annabelle prompted, looking at her son, "If we share our body heat he'll have a higher chance of survival."

She gently prodded the man's face, trying to wake him, "Sir, sir can you hear me? We are calling the ambulance now. They are going to take you to the hospital… you are going to be okay." With skilled hands she pushed her fingers against his sinewy neck, seeking a pulse and listening hard to the shallow breathing of the man in between them. Suddenly, with a ragged gasp the man's eyes flew open. They were bloodshot and a very pale blue, his lips, already so raw and chapped cracked a little as his mouth opened wide. With a sigh his body relaxed and he looked over at the stunned woman still feeling the pulse in his neck. He grinned and Annabelle Conrad felt her heart constrict in her chest, his gaze was so… so evil…

"You know…" The stranger spoke in a gravely whisper as one of his hands wormed its way out of the blanket and grasped her wrist. Her own hand was pulled back into the cocoon of cloth and felt his cold flesh, "I thought you were supposed to keep the groin warm when treating hypothermia and that you were supposed to… have no clothes on."

"Sir, you fainted. We are calling an am-ambulance right now…"

"An ambulance won't be any help… not for you."

And with sudden strength Annabelle found herself pinned down onto the couch, the man grinning down at her with a hungry light in his eyes. Drool clung to his lips as he said, "I'm so…. Hungry…"

Screams made Brandon drop the phone; he rushed into the living room to see the stranger drop the body of his mother. Jammie was screaming at the man, calling him a sick bastard, holding the fireplace poker at the man like a sword. The youngest Conrad's eyes traveled, it seemed of their own accord to the crumpled body on the floor, and a scream of his own wormed its way out of his throat. Annabelle Conrad was lying on the carpet, her life source pouring out of a gaping wound on her neck. Her lips trembled and he saw her mouth the words 'run… Brandon… run…' But then, something vanished in her eyes and she moved no more.

"Asshole! I'll kill you!" Jammie yelled, swinging the poker at the thin murderer, but it stopped short of making a mark, gripped in one dirty, bloody hand.

"Shut up!" The stranger howled reaching out and grabbing Jammie's face. Jammie screamed and pulled himself back, covering the deep long gashes that the man's fingernails hand left on his cheeks and forehead. He never saw the poker swing through the air, but Brandon saw it, heard the crack it made against the side of his brother's head. That sound seemed to trigger something inside of him and he ran, grateful that he hadn't taken off his coat or his shoes he ran… screams echoed in the night air behind him…

Quantico, Virginia:

A young man sat staring at his computer, turning something around and around in his hands. Trapped within his fingertips was a USB flash drive. Spencer had, against his better judgment, decided to go to the address on the note Rachel had left for him. It had only been for a postal office, the key had been to a mail box labeled R. Lindell. The only thing within this mail box had been the flash drive and for the past three days curiosity had been eating at him like a virus. 'Curiosity killed the cat…' He thought to himself, but couldn't keep the rest of the words from floating through his mind 'But satisfaction brought him back.'

He had to do it; he had to find out what it was Rachel was trying so hard to tell him… without actually telling him. Normally he prided himself on his ability to read people and while he could tell that his friend was deeply conflicted about what she was and was not telling him he couldn't understand anything else. It was frustrating. With a sigh he slipped the USB into his computer and waited… a document popped up. Slowly, text began appearing, but it wasn't in any language that he had ever seen befo- wait…

He could… read this? But it wasn't English, he knew that it wasn't… it wasn't a language that he had ever heard of before and yet… and yet the profiler knew exactly what it was saying.

'Shortly after of the beginning of the 1880s the United States decided to found its own organization to rival that of the Institute founded in Scotland by Queen Victoria. This organization was named Blackrock and was made to function as an outside force investigating unusual crimes and circumstances where normal authority organizations could not, under the influence of America's values. Unlike agencies such as the CIA and FBI, which were created later and to stand as 'visual agencies', agents of Blackrock had to exhibit special skills and the ability to operate under special circumstances.

Such as being able to read this document…'

Bbbbbzzzzz! Reid jumped as his cell phone began to ring in his pocket. Scrambling, he fumbled with pressing the call button and lifting the device to his ear, still staring at the screen, "H-hello?"

"Spence?"

"H-hey JJ… what is it?"

"We have a case, how soon can you get to the BAU?"

"Uhh… I'll… I'll leave now, be there in fifteen minutes?" Spencer said, swiping the USB out of his computer and pocketing it. He grabbed a coat and his bag before heading out the door, his mind half on the current conversation and half on what he had just seen…

True to his word, Reid arrived at the BAU fifteen minutes later. "I like it when my men arrive when they say they will… shows commitment." Garcia teased him, while shooting a glance at Derek.

"You know I'd all ways be true to my word baby girl." Morgan replied with a wink, "Lets see… how about I show up at eight, at your apartment, wearing nothing but-"

Hotch cleared his throat, Rossi rolled his eyes, and Emily stifled a giggle as JJ started the projector.

"A family was found in their house early this morning by authorities called to the house by the mother's youngest son." JJ said, and the crime scene photos appeared on the screen. Penelope let out a squeal and covered her eyes, "Please warn me next time!"

Annabelle and Jammie Conrad's bodies were lying on the kitchen table, but they were barely recognizable. JJ suppressed a shudder and looked at the picture, "As you can see the Unsub literally ate them… with a fork and steak knife."

"These pictures here show a father and another, younger son." Hotch said, thumbing over his tablet, "What happened to them?"

"Father died of hypothermia when the family was lost on a camping trip; he tried to find help in the middle of a snow storm. The youngest son was found near the property. Apparently he tried running for help, fell in the dark and cracked his head open on a rock." A picture of Brandon came up on the screen.

"The EMTs who were summoned to the house found the bodies and reported it. They said that the youngest boy, Brandon, had called them there saying they were treating a stranger who had come out of the woods of severe hypothermia. The police found dirty clothes at the scene, but all their DNA didn't match anything in the system." JJ concluded, looking around at the team, "This is a small town, only around 860 people live in Cass Lake, so the population is in an uproar over these brutal killings. The police want us there as soon as possible."

"Could the appearance of being a victim of hypothermia be a ruse?" Rossi asked, "A way to get people to trust him?"

"Apparently, after her husband died Annabelle Conrad became a part-time ranger; it would be hard to fool her with fake symptoms." Derek said, looking at a file on his tablet.

"They were eaten, could it be ritualistic cannibalism? Some sort of fantasy for the Unsub?" Ried asked.

"We'll discuss it more on the plane." Hotch said, while Emily groaned and added, "I was hoping we wouldn't have to deal with a cannibal again."

"Wheels up in half an hour." Their unit chief added, heading out of the room.

Starbucks in the Washington National Airport:

Rachel Lindell looked up from her coffee as a dark skinned man sat a crossed from her at the table, a latte in his hands. "Come to see me off?" She asked, though it was a rhetorical question, her pale gray eyes had already taken in the carry- on bag hanging over the back of his chair.

"You only ask questions you know the answer to when you're pissed. What is it?" The man said, taking a sip of his drink.

"I don't need your help with this." Rachel snapped, lowering the newspaper she had been attempting to distract herself with, "Besides, the CIA isn't supposed to operate within this country, Agent Wilcox."

Wilcox shrugged, "But I'm not just an agent am I? Don't forget, you made me part of Blackrock."

"And I'm seriously regretting it. Don't you think the BAU is going to throw a fit when they see you and your team show up in their investigation?"

"This is more then that… Annie Walker discovered a connection."

"You're favorite greenhorn? I knew you were sweet on her Jai, did you read her in?"

Jai rolled his eyes, "Keep those opinions to yourself Lindell. And no, I did not; I just had her look through the files on Patrick Tsaro."

"… What's the connection?"

"I guess you'll just have to find that out when we land. After all, you are supposed to be our liaison to Blackrock for both the FBI and CIA."

"I'm capable of much more than just passing information. Field work is no problem for-"

"But you lost that right when David Rossi—"

Clink! The cup that Rachel had just about to take a sip out of came down harshly on its saucer. So hard that the coffee within dribbled over the sides and onto her fingers. But, she was beyond caring at this point, all she wanted was the glare she was giving Jai to melt the flesh off his face.

"Sorry…"

The apology didn't even appease the CIA agent, and Rachel got up, shouldering her own bag, "I'll see you on the plane…"

AN: WHOOO! I finally managed to get through the first chapter! And... it's 130 in the morning... T.T Tell me if this sounds too crazy... I wanted to get this done so badly that I powered through it... Anyway, next time: the BAU get a surprise when the 'CIA' enters their investigation, claiming to have control of the investigation. Will the team finally get to know what Blackrock is? Who is Patrick Tsaro and what is his connection to the killings? Chapter 2 of Wendigo: Insatiable, will be coming this Thanksgiving week! Please write a review if you have the time, they mean a lot ot me. ALSO if you want to Beta this story, please contact me. I'm looking for someone to Beta this series.